3.26.2007

Every weekend, they turn the heat off. It takes forever to warm up again on Monday mornings. I'm guessing that the full heat will kick in tomorrow, just in time for the predicted 74 degree weather.

As for today, I *do* have a space heater. The problem with using the space heater is that it tends to blow a fuse if someone uses the microwave while it's on, and there is no-one to fix a blown fuse since our regular maintenance guy is on vacation, and his boss is also on vacation - a fact that I only discovered last Friday when we called to report that part of our ceiling had fallen down (for reals) and they tried to page both our maintenance guy and then his boss, only to figure out after 20 minutes of non-responsiveness that they were out of the office, and then tried to tell me that it couldn't be fixed until April 2nd (when they get back), and only hired and sent over an outside contractor to repair the ceiling after I threatened to call my union.

Point being, I think I can only use the 'I'm going to complain to my union' card once. And also, if I actually called my union, they'd probably be like, 'And you are...?'

So now I need to decide if I can risk a blown fuse (and thus, no computer access) or if I am doomed to shiver in my office for another 4 hours. Hm.

3.25.2007

This morning, I woke up bright and early (read: 10:00 am), created a new running mix on my iPod (read: heavy on music of the loud and angry variety), clipped my pedometer to my shirt (read: I am a huge dork), and headed down to Hudson River Park (read: not so much a park but a path along the West Side Highway) for a training run.

I ran (read: jogged) for 80 minutes. 80 minutes. I could not tell you how I did this, or what I was thinking about.

At the end of this insanity, my pedometer told me that I had only completed 3 miles. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

3.23.2007

All season I've kinda...bitched...about dodgeball. It's on the UES, so it requires a lot of subway travel and a cross-town bus during rush hour, which is annoying. And there are these teams that are really intense and throwing the ball really hard and I'm afraid of getting hit in the face and then there's the slight social awkwardness of being on a team with people that you don't know at all and trying to make small talk each week.

The Lawyer is able to shrug all of this off, because she just likes throwing the ball at people. Hard.

Last night, something strange happened. I had fun. Here's why:

- During the first round of games, I caught a ball that was thrown at me, which means that I eliminated the thrower from the other team AND brought back in a previously eliminated teammate. In other words, I was actually able to contribute to a victory.

- Our games against the feared Alpha-male team (The Headhunters, and they all have nicknames on the back of their shirts like 'The Wolf' and 'The Hitman', for God's sake) were over relatively quickly with no serious injuries.

- Bon Jovi comes on the bar jukebox. I fist pump. The Lawyer points at me and says 'Jersey in the House'.

- N. and I procured a free pitcher of beer from a woman who claimed to work for Budweiser. We had to pose for several pictures which will probably turn up somewhere on the internet at some point, but hey, free beer.

- During the free pitcher/picture taking, The Lawyer got stuck going to a diner for about 45 minutes with one of our more annoying team members, which is pretty funny.

- Later on in the night, I got caught up in some heavy geek foreplay when one of my other team members was showing me his new Blackberry. For about half an hour. And he was visibly nervous when I started playing with the buttons. I love geeks.

3.22.2007

Last night, I met up with J. to watch the Syracuse/Clemson NIT quarter-final game.

I think we all know how it turned out. (Or maybe we don't, since it was the NIT, and who watches NIT games, other than Syracuse alumni and the group of drunk Englishmen at the bar who befriended us and became temporary college basketball fans? In case you fall outside of those categories, the good guys lost.)

Syracuse was behind for almost the entire game, but managed to play a little more aggressively and go on a bit of a scoring run late in the 2nd half. Coincidentally, this occurred while I was listening to a story that J. was telling instead of watching the television.

Because I am weird, I became convinced that in order for Syracuse to win, I needed to not watch the rest of the game. And so I deliberately turned away and ordered J. to continue telling stories, preferrably on the same subject matter. This lasted for about 3 minutes, until I demanded to know what was happening in the game.

J. then spent the next 20 minutes or so narrating the game for me, while I alternately squeezed his hand and leaned my head against his chest. Not only did he describe the game, he noted baskets made by my favorite players (that 'white punk kid' and the 'tattooed dunker-guy') and actively rooted for Syracuse.

When it was over, and I had stopped swearing, he bought me a drink and deflected the unsympathetic questions of the aforementioned Englishmen. It's not often that you connect with someone who not only defers to your oddities, but actually participates in them.

3.16.2007

I returned to my office this afternoon to find a beautiful bunch of roses, sent by my brother, my SIL, and The Peanut, wishing me well on this little exam I'm taking on Sunday.

(Also, worth noting that The Peanut has begun to state that her career goal is to be a 'Princess Social Worker'. This is probably because my family has been making an effort to emphasize that Princesses (her current obsession) have jobs other than looking pretty and getting married. )

Just down the street from my new office, there is a pizza place that has these little potato/broccoli croquets that are only $.75 each. We've been here since Monday, and I've had at least one each day.

I'm trying to convince myself that they are healthy (broccoli) but...no.

I can see my future, and it includes continued potato-y goodness...and possible weight gain.

3.13.2007

I've reached a point where the 4 mile runs are supposed to be the easy ones. Sometimes they are. I surprised myself this weekend by running 5.7 miles continuously, after a week of being sick and not training at all. And this was along Hudson River Park, contending with helicopter landings and tourists and Sunday lollygagging and strong winds.

I'm trying to access the person that was a competitive athlete from ages 7-17 (swimming) but she's buried under years of inactivity and cigarette smoking. Back then, I could train for hours, pushing myself harder and harder. When I raced, something would always...click...and I'd be focused and strong and driving toward the finish line.

Now, I get distracted by tiredness, the slow upward ticking of the distance meter on the treadmill, and the occasional shiny object.

On April 29th, I'm hoping some kind of dormant muscle memory kicks in. Or maybe just that it will be one of those days when the running seems easy, and 13.1 miles pass before I even know it.

Yesterday morning, I ignored the important rule of NYC transit, and took a seat on the subway where no-one else was sitting, only to discover that someone (or something) in the immediate area reeked of urine.

I went to Dunkin' Donuts, where my request for coffee with 'milk, no sugar' was interpreted as 'cream, 10 sugars', rendering the coffee almost undrinkable.

Arriving at work, I was confronted with a series of crises.

My grant documentation was returned, and I am missing a 20-page questionnaire. This puts the grant renewal in jeopardy, which would make me responsible for killing off the funding for the school project.

The department administrator shared the news that we are moving offices again within the next two weeks to a 'partially rennovated' warehouse space within the next two weeks.

My current office mate announced that she is leaving for another job. She is the only person there that I have really connected with.

I had not had time to pack my lunch, so I subsisted on an apple, peanut butter, cottage cheese and a protein bar all day, and then almost fainted during my 4 mile 'easy' training run last night.

Given the above, can anyone blame me for not wanting to get out of bed this morning?

3.04.2007

It didn't look at all good. When I'm running, my face turns bright red, and I sweat a lot. And I'm pretty sure that I was making strange breathing noises and, at times, (not so) silently mouthing lyrics from whatever was playing on my iPod. Also, I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich an hour before running, and it made me a little...burpy.

But damn, it felt good. I'm still feeling good, good enough to maybe go to yoga tonight.

Alternately, The Lawyer's advice: 'Maybe you just need to get a grip on yourself and chill the fuck out.'

*Post title courtesy of MS, who helpfully reminded me that I'm halfway to my goal.

3.01.2007

I don't seem to have coherent enough thoughts to comprise a solid post, so...

Space continues to be an issue here at Dream Job. I lost my office 2 weeks ago, and had to move in with another Social Worker, which is kinda fun, but the physical office is kinda shitty. Actually, it's literally shitty at times, since it is connected to a bathroom which is frequently used by the nursing staff.

Oh, and did I mention that I can turn from working at my desk and wash my hands in the 1960's era sink located directly to my right? I don't even have to stand up to do this. Score!

Also, at any given point in the day, there are people in engineering uniforms measuring the hallway outside my new office and talking loudly on their wireless phones.

Boys are kinda dumb. I (sorta) directly asked MySpace Guy to meet on purpose for a drink next time, a request which he chose to...ignore. Whatevs. Next!

Speaking of Next!, DJ's friend and I had a 12 hour date on Monday night. I live in fear of The Jinx, so I'll just leave it at that. He might need an alias here, and his initials are already taken by someone mentioned on this blog. Hm. Very uncreatively, I shall name him LawStudent.

I have dodgeball tonight, and my only stated goal is to 'not look like an idiot.' I think I'm kinda setting the bar a little high with that one.

At MS's suggestion, I plugged my cable internet into my television. I now have 25 glorious channels, including numerous Spanish language stations and QVC. Score!

I continue to make awesome decisions, like bypassing Taco Bell and the hotdog vendor at lunch today, and proceeding directly to the deli and a turkey sandwich. This was mostly motivated by the fact that someone will (probably) be seeing me naked within the next month.